


Love Shy

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Era, Early in Canon, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Merlin, Pining Merlin (Merlin), Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:51:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: Arthur is…sexy. There’s never been any doubt about it. It’s a fact of life that Merlin struggled against at first, the way he chafed at the Great Dragon’s chatter of destiny and coins and halves; but he’s given in to it now, the knowledge that the sky is blue, water is wet, and Arthur sets Merlin on fire and makes him want to push his master up against a wall to just, justhave at him, forget that they’re prince and servant and devour him, climb him, greedily drink in his groans —





	Love Shy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lillupon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillupon/gifts).



> Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year, Lily! I'm so sorry for the wait, but I hope this drabble-that-is-longer-than-a-drabble makes up for it! I am very grateful for your friendship and hope that 2019 holds nothing but joy and success for you <3

Arthur is… _sexy_. There’s never been any doubt about it. It’s a fact of life that Merlin struggled against at first, the way he chafed at the Great Dragon’s chatter of destiny and coins and halves; but he’s given in to it now, the knowledge that the sky is blue, water is wet, and Arthur sets Merlin on fire and makes him want to push his master up against a wall to just, just _have at him_ , forget that they’re prince and servant and devour him, climb him, greedily drink in his groans —

Merlin sighs. He’s hard again. Brilliant.

He can’t have a lie-in and take care of the problem, since dawn broke ages ago (the sun rises every day just to spite him, naturally) and Arthur is no doubt waiting to pounce on him the minute he opens the door — and not even in the way Merlin wants. He’s just got to will it away. Or not think about tying Arthur up with his magic and riding him till kingdom come.

A sharp rap on Merlin’s door startles him out of bed. “Merlin! You’ll be late if you dally any longer.” It’s Gaius, of course. Merlin shuts his eyes for a brief minute.

“I’m up,” he calls back. Where the hell is his cleanest shirt? His jacket he left out in Gaius’s infirmary on the back of his usual chair yesterday, and his scarf, scarf… there it is. “Leaving in a minute. Any physic you need me to drop off on the way?”

Gaius is busy organising his worktable when Merlin emerges from his room. “Lord Patrick needs the ointment I had you make last night, for his neck pain. And eat your breakfast before you go.”

Merlin doesn’t disturb him further, downing his soup so quickly it scalds his tongue. It’s all right. The ache will fade by the time he reaches Arthur’s rooms, and at least this way he won’t be tardy.

* * *

 

“Tardy,” Arthur says, the first thing Merlin hears as he nudges the door open with his foot. “Honestly, Merlin, the days you’re late outnumber the days you aren’t. I wonder why I don’t sack you on the spot.” He’s still in bed, still in a state of undress — the lazy, unbelievably gorgeous prince can’t be bothered to do anything for himself, not when he can make Merlin do it for him. It’s all well and good, being handy with a sword, but what kind of man can’t be arsed to put on a bloody shirt himself? (Not that Merlin’s complaining. Too much.)

“You’ve done it before,” Merlin reminds him. The heavy breakfast tray in his hands clangs when he places it on the table.“With Cedric. Easy as pie to do it again. What _is_ stopping you, my lord?”

“Shut up,” comes the grumbled reply. Merlin grins. He knows Arthur regrets the whole Cedric thing, even though he acts as if it was all a grand plan to teach Merlin a lesson. Arthur’s been more lenient with Merlin than usual since the Cornelius Sigan incident two weeks ago — never complains when Merlin fucks up a spaulder buckle or when he comes back to a room messier than he left it. Merlin wonders how much he’ll get away with before Arthur finally snaps.

“I got you your favourites today,” he says, drawing the curtains. Arthur groans.

“You know, Merlin, you’re hideously loathsome sometimes.”

“Now you know how I feel about you every day,” Merlin (rep)lies, unrepentant. Let Arthur suffer first thing in the morning, too. “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

It takes him more than ten minutes to wheedle Arthur out of bed, the conclusion of which was a hard-won tussle with Arthur’s blankets, but on the brighter side, he got to tussle with Arthur, shameless randy thing that he is.

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Merlin is frustratingly unable to wank himself stupid; the city has been gripped by lung fever, so Gaius has Merlin rushing all over the citadel and lower towns, adding to his chores on top of Arthur’s. When he’s left alone, he’s often too exhausted to do anything other than fantasise and fall asleep. It does nothing to help his frame of mind. Fuck Arthur for doing this to him, really, being all handsome and glorious and sunlike golden. Fuck him. Wake him up with Merlin’s mouth hot around his cock, turn him over and lave the most intimate part of him, prod inside with his tongue and then his slick cock, ugh, _fuck him_ —

“Merlin, how’ve you been lately?” Gwen asks Merlin. Merlin snaps out of his reverie and blinks at her for a bit. He has no idea what they were talking about before Gwen sprang this question on him, and Gwen knows it, judging by the amused exasperation on her face.

“I’m perfectly all right,” Merlin answers, flashing her a grin before they part ways, each to go to their respective royals. “You’re brill for worrying, though.”

His prince is lounging in his chair when Merlin shoulders the door open. Arms heavy with freshly-laundered clothes, Merlin says, “The king commands your presence in his chambers in an hour.”

Arthur hums, and looks at Merlin with a half-smile. Merlin stares blankly at him for a good minute, and when no further acknowledgement of Uther’s order comes, he huffs at the odd behaviour and goes to set the laundry down by the wardrobe.

He inevitably trips over himself halfway and falls to the floor — he’s been worked to the bone, for goodness’ sake, he’s dead on his feet — and Arthur’s booming laugh makes it known that that was exactly what he’d been awaiting.

“Ouch,” Merlin yelps, less from the pain and more to shut Arthur up. Arthur rises from his chair, still chuckling.

“I’ll never tire of your bumbling clumsiness, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur says, beaming broadly as he helps Merlin up. Merlin purses his lips, surly, and Arthur snorts. Merlin doesn’t begrudge him his mirth (Arthur is beautiful, after all, especially when he’s happy) but he could stand to touch Merlin a bit more. “All right, come here. Let’s see if you’ve been damaged further than you already are.”

“I’ll damage _you_ further,” Merlin grumbles, but doesn’t fight Arthur as he leads Merlin to the bed. He sways on his feet and collapses face-first onto the mattress, lured by the scent of Arthur’s sweat, and can practically hear Arthur rolling his eyes behind him.

“Do feel free to take your liberties with the prince’s bed, Merlin,” Arthur mutters, fond and sarcastic, and Merlin shivers and presses his face into the blankets at the thought of _taking his liberties with Arthur’s bed._

Oh, God. Arthur just rucked apart Merlin’s clothes to — “I hurt my head… not, not _that_ ,” Merlin yelps. It isn’t that he minds, it’s just that — well, what if Arthur hit his head too, y’know? And forgot that Merlin’s head’s not, as he always likes to claim, up his own arse?

Arthur hums. “I saw you fall right in front of me, Merlin.” His hands caress and knead and press; Merlin’s never grown this hard this quickly. He gives in with the loudest sigh, as if it’s a huge trouble to _allow_ Arthur to just do what he wants.

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur says, all nonchalant, “I’ve been waiting for the longest time for you to do something about your obvious, obvious attraction to me.”

The cat’s out of the bag, then.

“No such thing,” Merlin mumbles into the coverlet, after a beat, decidedly not arching into Arthur’s touch. “I’ve no attraction to you at all.”

“Lies,” Arthur fucking _purrs_. Merlin catches the telltale rustle of him climbing onto the bed. The next time Arthur speaks, it’s right beside Merlin’s ear. “The longest time,” he repeats. Merlin jolts, surprised, but Arthur pins him to the bed with his own body. “Honestly, did you think I wasn’t in love with you and desperate to fuck you myself?”

“You _what_ —” Merlin starts, but Arthur rises, gets off him and rolls him over, and the smile that greets Merlin strikes him speechless.

“I would very much like to kiss you now,” Arthur whispers, hanging over Merlin with his hands on either side of Merlin’s head.

“And I would very much like to come off with you,” Merlin retorts. No legacy is so rich as honesty, et cetera. Arthur bursts into laughter and leans down to press his forehead to Merlin’s.

“All in good time,” he promises.

“No, _I’ve_ waited too long,” Merlin says and flips them over (aided subtly by his… special abilities). “All right now.”

The corners of Arthur’s eyes crinkle, and the blue of his eyes brightens to a dazzle, and Merlin is absolutely certain that his prince doesn’t mind the hurry at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought! <3


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